One of us or both of us
by Grace-Logan
Summary: Dazai always had fun terrorising Chuuya, sometimes, he doesn't like the way it ends.
1. Chapter 1

Dazai flew over the lip of the building, stumbling as he landed on the wet high rise in front of him. Gasping for breath he pushed on, weary body dying for a break that his pursuer was not willing to give. He gave a breathy laugh as he heard Chuuya leap from the opposite building and ran all the faster for it, he was catching up well before Dazai had predicted he would.

"Dazai you piece of shit! Stop running and let me kill you trai-woa!" Chuuya's foot slid out beneath him, throwing him wildly off balance on the edge of a 20-meter drop. His heart jumped into his throat as shock froze his limbs and he fell back into empty air. "Fuck."

Dazai glanced behind at Chuuya, pivoted on the ball of his dominant foot and slipped on the slick roof tiling before he successfully launched himself at Chuuya. Hand stretched out, heart thudding heavily within his chest.

"Chuuya!" His fingers clenched on empty air, Chuuya just out of his reach. He lunged again and, grasping Chuuya's ankle, was dragged forward onto his stomach suddenly. Chuuya's back slammed into the building, head cracking on the edge of the bricks with a dull thock heard only by him before his body went slack. Dazai clutched at Chuuya's ankle, ignoring the sharp pain from his elbow as much as he could, and let his body slide forward a little so he could turn his elbow in the right way.

"Chuuya help me out here, activating your ability would be helpful." Dazai squeezed out between clenched teeth. He pushed against the risen ledge to hold himself on the roofing struggled to hold Chuuya with one hand, slipping on the wet leather of Chuuya's shoes.

"Chuuya?"

His hold was tenuous, Chuuya's small foot was slipping through his fingers and if he fell Dazai would be letting his former partner bludgeon himself on the pavement below. But Chuuya wasn't answering him. He took a risk and peeked over the edge of the building, down at Chuuya as his grip became dangerously weak.

"Chuuya answer me." He called down, voice rife with dull anxiety. He came to the conclusion that Chuuya was unconscious when he received no answer and clicked his tongue with frustration. If he let Chuuya hang any longer then he'd fall to his death, but if he let go of the wall to grab Chuuya with his other hand then they'd both die. Whilst a double suicide with someone beautiful was what Dazai truly wanted out of life, he did not want to die with his bull-headed hat-rack.

But his fingers were slipping, he was barely holding on. They could both fall to their deaths, or one of them could survive. If he were quick enough he may be able to save both of them. But was he quick enough?

"Sorry Chuuya." He released his hand from its burden and relaxed, closing his eyes and shoving away his emotions. Chuuya would despise him for this. He felt the wind in his hair; warmth saturated his body, adrenaline rushing with the blood in his system as sharp slap broke through the late evening light.


	2. Chapter 2

His blurred world was filled with pain. Surroundings warped in smudged tunnel vision, meagre lighting blinding against sensitive pupils blown wide. Whatever it was beneath him was rising and falling with the faintest of movements, barely noticeable were it not for the stabbing pain that came with every tiny shift in his position.

Head pounding and feeling like he'd been run over by a tank he moved, knowing he couldn't stay here. Gritting his teeth he rolled to his left, strangled groan escaping his lips as he flopped onto his front, his right arm slapping into a puddle that seeped through his clothes and stained his buzzing skin. Through squinted eyes he peered around, gleaning little information from his fuzzy vision aside from the light colouring of a person's jacket next to him, vaguely familiar shapes of the little street visible to him and red on his dark skin. Red was never good.

He lifted his hand out of the puddle and dropped it back on dry concrete and something else. His fingers twitched and scrabbled for the object, body knowing what it was but mind not quite caught up. Light shone directly on his eyes from the small object, painful but he couldn't look away.

It was already unlocked suggesting the one who owned it had been using the small rectangular object. Phone. His mind eventually supplied, not his phone, no his phone was newer than this old black berry. His fingers fumbled, leaving bloody smudges on the screen, as his hand shook with the effort of holding it up and navigating the system. Blood was soaking his hair, clothes and ragged wheezes pushed him forward with one goal.

 **Get a doctor.**

The contacts list was, thankfully, easy to locate. It being the option in the middle of the screen, the solid blue sticking out amongst a black back drop and colourful game applications. The screen was one small glowing white blur but it didn't matter as the list was short, containing only eleven options. He scrolled to the last name, hoped the contacts were sorted as they used to be (Last name first), tapped the green blur on the screen and let it ring.

"I'm not helping if you're calling after a failed suicide attempt." Came her irate voice through the phone. He barely understood what was said, words melding together and twisting into a ball of tinny noise.

"Help." He said. Black spots blacked out half his vision, he brought the phone closer to his ear and dropped it on the ground, letting his head drop next to it on the asphalt.

"What? Dazai?"

He tried to speak, tried to move his lips and work his voice but all that escaped was barely a whisper.

"Hello?"

She would hang up if he didn't answer. Desperation bloomed in his chest but he couldn't work up the strength to speak. She was beginning to sound concerned though. Hopefully, _hopefully_ , she would hold on a little longer.

"Dazai, are you there?"

He grunted as sharp pain lanced through his head and hip. Nausea swirling in his gut. His limbs felt like lead, weighing him down like his power couldn't.

"Help." He gasped, feeling a chunky blob make its way up his throat.

"Who is this? Where are you? Where's Dazai?" The voice demanded on deaf ears, the voice sounded further away by the second. His body wracked with a violent coughing fit, disturbing every fire lit nerve in his broken body as blood splattered across the phone and the pavement beneath.

"No.. time." He rasped. "Too much.. blood…"

"Blood? What do you mean blood? Where's Dazai? _Hey Kunikida, trace Dazai's phone!_ "

"Nah.. Alley, Anasaki, fuck."

"Anasaki? The bar? Tell me what's wrong, stay with me!" She sounded impatient, worried, alarmed even, but he couldn't make out the words anymore. His eyes slid closed as a soft sigh slipped passed his lips, lids too heavy to hold open any longer.

"Hurry." He choked out, slipping from consciousness a second later.

#

" _Hey! Hey! Hello? Are you there?_ … shit." He was gone. Whomever had Dazai's phone had slipped away, dead or unconscious she didn't want to think about. If the person had been comfortable enough to use Dazai's phone and Dazai wasn't there...

Or he was.

"Kunikida!" Yosano yelled, spinning towards him on the edge of her heel. The call was still active, the person on the other side… was not. Kunikida's computer screen zoomed in on a small red dot on a map of the city. It was a two minute walk from the bar the person had gasped out with what seemed like their dying breath. She could only hope, as she bolted from the office, that Dazai and whomever had called would still be alive when she got to them.

The bar, thankfully, wasn't far from the office. A five minute drive, twenty minute walk, ten minute run taking the same roads. Using every short cut she knew got her there in record time. Her sense of urgency, of imminent danger, driving her on faster than she felt she'd ever been before.

She slipped around the corner of the alley and stopped. Unable to not take in the gruesome scene and guess what had happened. There was blood everywhere. Not in a manner suggesting a fight, no splatters or individual drops. This was the slow bleeding of a wound untreated for hours. Dazai and the stranger lay pressed together in this pool of blood. Dazai's position suggesting he had hit the ground full force, protecting the small one from harm.

Not a suicide attempt. She shook herself out of her stupor and rushed over to examine them. Taking extreme care when turning the small one after she had made sure both of them were alive, barely. She could hardly be sure what blood belonged to whom or if there were an injury hiding under the copious amounts smeared over both of them. Some of it dried enough to stubbornly stay attached to them when she tried to wipe it away.

She had no time for this, she couldn't see their injuries under their clothes. Under the blood disguising any openings in the small one's flesh. Dazai was easier. He had landed flat on his back and hadn't moved since. The only blood marring his front having been smeared there by the other.

She separated them, cut off their clothes to get at their flesh and got to work.


End file.
